


Ready for a Resurrection

by Gileonnen



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Microfic, Tweetfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22211638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gileonnen/pseuds/Gileonnen
Summary: A series of Osiris/Saint-14 microfics.
Relationships: Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 105





	1. Face

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang with me at [@gileonnen_again](https://twitter.com/gileonnen_again) to request fics of your own!

When he sees Osiris, Saint-14 begins to run. He pelts across the sand, flinging grenades in his wake. As the Vex burst into sparks behind him, he wraps Osiris in a rib-cracking hug.

Osiris touches his cheek. "You've grown old, my friend."

Saint laughs. "You haven't aged a day."


	2. Wildflowers

Saint-14 lies back on the hillside, amid tangled clover and crown vetch. "This is what we fight for, brother!" he says, with the weight of a proclamation.

"Flower crowns?" asks Oriris dryly.

"No. For moments of peace." He offers his hand, and Osiris lets himself be drawn down.


	3. First

Later, these times will be called the Dark Ages. People will talk of cities torched, warlords culling the survivors with weapons of light.

"All this destroying!" says Saint-14, kicking through ashes. "What couldn't we accomplish if we tried to build something for once?"

"That old dream of the Last City?" snaps Osiris. "A myth for the credulous." Later, he will regret his harshness. He is tired. They're all so tired.

Saint, though, just touches his shoulder. "If there is no Last City," he says, "then let us build the first."


	4. Hunger

The two of them have been walking through rain for days without a meal. Even Saint-14, sun-craving, can draw little from the stormy skies.

"Let us rest, and plan!" he insists. "Better to move toward something!"

"No," says Osiris raggedly. "If I stop, I may not get up again."


	5. Night

Osiris has spent so many centuries under Mercury's sun that he's almost forgotten the taste of Earth nights--piercing stars, and thrumming insects. The wet frost edge to the air.

"You are cold?" Saint-14 asks.

Osiris shivers. "No."

But the arm around his shoulders warms him.


	6. Soothe

Osiris is the worst Warlock Saint has ever known--all the Solar Light in the world, and he can't open a simple healing rift. Didn't think it was relevant to learn!

But as he bends over the exposed wires and circuitry of Saint's injured leg, his calm is soothing all the same.


	7. Favor

"I must stay here to hold the timelines," says Osiris heavily. "Even a moment's inattention will cause them to unravel. I cannot join you in this."

Saint-14 presses their brows together. "Then I will return to you, my friend," he answers. "This I vow."

Osiris plucks a feather from his shoulder and tucks it in the waistband of Saint's mark--a knight's favor for a battlebound Titan. The wind catches in the curve of the vane, but the feather holds. "See that you do."


	8. Parry

Osiris's blade blazes. Saint-14 deflects each powerful stroke--shield up, armguards shedding sparks--but Osiris drives him to the edge of the wall. He can see the long drop behind, the distant sky. He can almost taste the fall.

It makes him hesitate, and then Saint-14 has him.


	9. Scratch

"You've got something on your--"

Saint-14 scrubs his face with the end of his mark, but Osiris frowns and steps closer. He traces a line across Saint's cheekbone. "Hm. It's a scratch. I'll find the die grinder."

"Is that necessary?"

A wry smile. "No. Very well--a rakish scar."


	10. Hush

"But with charge-conjugation symmetry--" Osiris pauses. Saint's gaze is distant as he touches the beak of Osiris's helmet. "Should I stop wasting your time?" he snaps.

Saint straightens. "Never," he says. "Even when I do not understand your theories, I love to hear your voice."


	11. Relax

Osiris opens his eyes, and a dozen images coalesce into the wreck of the Sundial. His heart sinks. He can't lose everything--not again, not after all it's cost.

Behind him, stones shift.

Osiris turns, and there is Saint.

"Well, brother," he says. "Time to relax at last, eh?"


	12. Gasp

"Show me your Light," says Osiris, arms around Saint's neck, their bodies flush. "Show me the power of the Void."

It should sound ridiculous. It doesn't. It sends a charge of heat through every millimeter of Saint's wiring.

He pours freezing Void into Osiris until he gasps.


	13. Feather

Saint-14 stands vigil in the Tower hangar, beneath his banners and Osiris's--a dare to the Consensus, should they seek to bar him. Still Osiris does not come.

He waits.

Osiris does not let himself be seen. But one day, at the edge of Saint's carpet lies a long, dark feather.


	14. Dreams

siris dreams a thousand dreams at once, bending near-parallel like the braided currents of a river. He is walking the walls of the City; he is walking the Corridors of Time; he is walking his fingers down Saint-14's chest, dropping a kiss on his hip.

He wakes tired, and alone.


	15. Candle

At first, the candle flame flickers in the slow breeze of the Sundial's tines, so Osiris shelters it with his hands until it grows tall and sure on the wick. Only then does he sit back on his knees and watch the flame.

 _When the candle burns down,_ he thinks, _I will go to him._


	16. Praise

Osiris is sparing with praise. If he sees promise, Saint-14 has found, he'll analyze what's wrong with an idea rather than dismissing it outright. He seeks perfection, and so he sees only failings.

So it touches him to the heart when Osiris says, "You really are magnificent."


	17. Affection

Word comes first from air traffic control: the exiled Warlock Osiris is returning to the City. By the time he docks, the gossip has already circled the Tower.

"The Vex are attacking," some say; "The Cabal have disrupted the timestream," whisper others, more informed.

Within five minutes, there's a modest betting pool on the City-wide network.

When Saint-14 sweeps Osiris up for a kiss long delayed, old Drifter scoops up the pot.


	18. Throat

Osiris lets his mind drift out of focus, until the world doubles and redoubles around him--but Saint-14 is a fixed point in his universe, and rather than break his image, Osiris instead shatters himself into Echoes in their dozens. Their infinite paths converge here, on the man that Osiris loves with every sharp-edged fragment of himself.

One Echo takes Saint's pauldrons, and another undoes his mark. One kneels with Saint's hand clasped in his hand, head bowed and grateful tears streaming hot down his cheeks. One trails a wondering hand over Saint's jaw, his brow, the hard plane of his cheek, relearning each surface with slow, reverent touches.

One nudges Saint's chin up to map his throat with searing kisses, and Osiris shivers at the ghost of a sensation on his lips.

Saint meets his eyes. His gaze is soft, unfocused, laced with heat. "I cannot touch your Echoes," he says, although the roughness in his voice says that he feels their touches all too well. "Please, Osiris--"

"Shall I dismiss them?"

Saint looks down at the Echo who kneels before him, and through that Echo's eyes, Osiris looks up at him with all the naked grief and yearning that he can't permit himself to voice. "No," says Saint, running his thumb over the Echo's knuckles. Each sweep of his thumb makes the Echo shimmer like a reflection breaking on a lake. "No. I would see all of you."

Osiris's heart twists. He leans in through the radiant shadow of himself and seals his lips to Saint's waiting throat.


	19. Part

As Osiris steps closer, the crowd parts around him. At its heart is Saint-14, laughing, a child on his shoulders.

He really is magnificent, shining in the people's reflected love. Osiris almost can't bear to be seen.

But when Saint's eyes light on him, Osiris can't turn away.


	20. Forever

The Echo has delved so deep in the Corridors of Time that the bones of the coordinate plane show through every rock and tree. Even the Vex here are ill-formed things of unfinished edges and warped glass.

Still he pushes deeper. If Saint-14 is here, he will find him.

He must.


	21. Fiber

"Look at it, Osiris! This was Mercury as I knew it long ago. The trees, the sky, the rolling golden fields ..." He stoops to pluck a flower from its fibrous stem and tucks it behind Osiris's ear.

The simulation flickers. Saint-14 fades into points of light.

The flower remains.


	22. Caught

"I'm going," snaps Osiris. "The Speaker left me no choice."

"I know," says Saint heavily. "I will not ask you again to make amends."

"Good." Osiris reaches for his mask.

Saint catches his wrist. He turns Osiris's hand in his, then raises it gently to his mouth. "Come back."


	23. Echoes

Osiris fractures himself into radiant Echoes--blades out, dawnfire wings at their backs, fierce energy bent on a single purpose.

The Infinite Forest is a maze, but it is also a mind. Somewhere within, Saint-14 is giving it a fight to remember.

This time, Osiris will not turn away.


	24. Gaze

Saint-14 sits back in his chair. Beneath Osiris's gaze, he feels taken apart--a wire stripped bare, awaiting only a charge to blaze into fire. "Speak plainly with me, Osiris," he says. His processors run hot. "What do you want?"

Osiris's eyes are dark and keen. "I want you."


	25. Puzzle

Osiris claims not to enjoy a puzzle for its own sake. That he gains nothing from unraveling a mystery without truth at its center.

But his anxious mind finds satisfaction in reconfiguring shapes and symbols--so when Saint-14 finds a mystery, he holds onto it for an anxious day.


	26. Devour

Osiris's hands skate over Saint's chest, and a wave of cold drags behind them. An icy lassitude steals over him; he feels helpless, held, enthralled in chains of Void. His Light cools and dims beneath Osiris's touch.

"Please--"

"Soon," Osiris promises, and his hands trail down.


	27. Flight

Saint stands at the edge of an empty hangar bay, where the wind snaps the safety nets and pigeons flutter and sally from their nests. The sun warms his chassis, his uncovered face.

"Longin' for the sky, big guy?" asks Holliday.

He chuckles. "Waiting for a bird to fly home."


End file.
